


Wake Up Alone

by pinknamjoon



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Slight Canon Divergence, ed is gay and he doesn’t wanna admit it, hallucination!oswald is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinknamjoon/pseuds/pinknamjoon
Summary: Songfic to Wake Up Alone by Amy Winehouse.Ed isn’t dealing with the loss of his (ex) best friend very well, and when he turns to drugs just to see Oswald again, he faces truths he doesn’t want to admit to himself.





	Wake Up Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t mean for this to be a Nygmobblepot Week fic but I’ve been putting off finishing this for so long that it landed on the free for all day... so hey I guess it’s part of Nygmobblepot week. Enjoy!

_it's okay in a day, i'm staying busy_

The dark of the Van Dahl mansion felt eery without Oswald's men flowing in and out. The bustling of the mayor’s office had once disturbed him, but now, everything seemed too quiet. Ed distracted himself from the silence with his preparations, knowing that somewhere in this godforsaken city he could find someone to mentor him.

_tied up enough i don't have to wonder where is he_

He played with a pill in between his forefinger and his thumb. They were experimental antidepressants, which had been pulled out of production once people using them started hallucinating. They were still being sold in certain circles, however, and Ed was drawn to them for the hallucinogenic properties. If he couldn't find a mentor, he'd have to find a way to speak to the one he had murdered.

_got so sick of crying, so just lately_

He had been reluctant to use them at first. Because production of the drug had stopped, he had no way of knowing if they were safe to consume. But after three of Gotham's finest intellectuals failed him, he realized he needed Oswald. Badly.

_when i catch myself, i do a one-eighty_

He crushed the pill between his teeth, and at first, nothing happened. He started getting desperate, taking more and more. Eventually, his mind foggy and vision blurring, despite his glasses being perched on his nose, the soaking, dishevelled, bloody appearance of his friend appeared before him.

_i stay up clean the house_

Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He reached out to stroke Oswald's cheek, but instead of soft skin meeting his fingers, his hand went straight through his friend, cementing the fact that he was truly gone.

"Hello again, Ed."

_at least i'm not drinking_

"Did you miss me?" Oswald cackled, the river water from his suit dripping out onto the hardwood floor.

Ed's eyes gravitated to the gaping hole in the older man's chest, the one he had put there. Blood was streaming out of the wound, mixing with the water and seaweed.

"I did." He choked out, pushing his glasses up on his nose, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

_run around just so i don't have to think about thinking_

"Well, you should have thought about the consequences before you shot me and dumped me in the river." He said, gesturing towards the crimson tear in his skin.

"I-I had to. I had no choice! You killed Isabella!" He shouted, clenching his fists.

"Oh, stop lying to yourself. We both know you never truly loved her." Oswald rolled his eyes.

"You're wrong."

"See, the thing is, I'm a projection of your psyche. I know all of your deep dark secrets, even the ones you are too stubborn to realize by yourself."

_that silent sense of content, that everyone gets_

He turned away from Oswald. This was a bad idea.

"Again, you were so desperate to see me once more that you didn't think this through. You do know how drugs work, don't you Ed? How love works? One small taste, and you become addicted." Oswald reappeared right in front of him, a patronizing look on his face.

"I don't love you. Him." Ed growled.

_just disappears, soon as the sun sets_

"Sure Ed."

He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Oswald had vanished as quickly as he had come.

He collapsed into the nearest chair, his head in his hands. He already missed Oswald's presence, and it wasn't even real. This was going to be harder than he thought.

He hoisted himself up, and set to work.

_this face in my dreams seizes my guts_

They were back on the dock. But this time, Oswald was completely calm.

"I love you, Ed. I want those to be my last words. I love you, Ed."

_he floods me with dread, soaked in soul_

Ed's hands started shaking.

"I know you love me too. And if you need to shoot me to realize that, I'll let you. I love you, Ed."

_he swims in my eyes by the bed_

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Ed screamed, his whole body going cold, tremors coursing through him from head to toe.

"I love you, Ed"

_pour myself over him_

He dropped the gun, and grabbed Oswald by his lapels. He leaned in, connecting their lips. And god, had nothing ever felt so right. They moved their mouths in sync, Ed sucking on the other man's lips, moaning into the kiss.

_moon spilling in_

But as they kissed, Oswald started screaming. Ed broke away, and saw the gun in his hand, and the blood pouring out of the other's chest. He cried out, moving to catch Oswald before he hit the water, and was lost to Ed forever. He missed. He watched Oswald's body fall into the river, his blood staining the water crimson. The red flowed out with the tide, the streaks looking like claws cutting through the liquid. Oswald's pained and grief-stricken expression faded into the black, his pale skin luminescent amongst the dark waves. He looked down at his hands, and saw them covered in the blood of his friend.

_and i wake up alone_

Ed shot up, sweating, a shout coming from his lips. His breath was coming out in huffs, and his heart racing.

He fumbles around in the dark for the box of pills on the coffee table near the couch he had fallen asleep on. He grasped the cold metal, and popped it open immediately, throwing the drug into his mouth, and chewing it. His pupils dilate, and Oswald is suddenly sitting next to him on the couch.

"Bad dreams?" He smirks.

Ed was suddenly reminded of another night, long ago, where he and Oswald had sat like this. Except now, Oswald was dead, and not looking at him lovingly, as he once had, before everything. How could he have been so blind?

_if i was my heart_

The quantum physicist was late. Ed tapped his watch impatiently. Leave it to Gotham's intellectuals to have no sense of punctuality.

He popped another pill in between his teeth, crushing it swiftly.

"Still on your quest to replace me?" Oswald asked, sitting on top of a desk.

_i'd rather be restless_

"I can fill a room, or just one heart. Others can have me, but I can't be shared. What am I?"

"Ready to admit you love me yet? Because there are two answers that apply to this riddle of yours, and both admit that you miss me, in one form or another."

Ed rubbed his eyes, and repeated the riddle.

"I can fill a room, or just one heart. Others can have me, but I can't be shared. What am I?" His voice grew steadily louder, and the small woman in front of him quivered.

_second i stop_

"I-I don't know." She said.

He sighed in disappointment.

"What a bore. Did you really think you could replace me?" Oswald said, yawning. "She seems way less fun. Plus, she's not your type. Can't have you falling in love with yet another mentor, now can we?"

_the sleep catches up_

"Shut up!" He yelled, throwing the first thing he could find, a stack of papers, at the desk his hallucination was perched upon.

"I didn't say anything." The physicist said. She didn't seem as scared as she was before.  
"Well, onto the next question!" He said, clapping his hands.

"This has something to do with the mayor missing, doesn't it?" She said.

"What?" He growled, daring her to keep talking.

"You heard me. You were his chief of staff. You saved his life, and he in return saves yours. It was clear to everyone he was in love with you. What happened, Mr. Nygma? You didn't love him back? Or, even worse, you did? It scared you, didn't it. You loved him back, and you were frightened, so you killed him? This is what this search is for?"

He rushed forward, and struck her across the head.

"She saw right through you, didn't she?" Oswald snickered.

"I thought I told you to shut it, birdbrain."

He just laughed, and vanished.

_and i'm breathless_

Ed slept in Oswald's room that night. It still smelled like him, however faint. Still smelled of Saint Laurent cologne and gunpowder.

He had slept here the night Isabella had died. He thought of Oswald, tied to the ruins of her car, crying, saying he loved him. He thought of Oswald strapped to a chair by Barbara, realizing what love truly was, and saying he now knew how he should have acted, and that he loved Ed.

He should have talked to him then. He shouldn't have been so rash.

He rolled over, curling into Oswald's pillow, trying to get a little bit closer to him, when he saw something on the bedside table.

A little origami penguin.

_this ache in my chest_

He picked it up, holding it delicately in his palms. The paper was crinkled and yellow, but still whole. He had no idea Oswald had kept it.

He slipped it into his breast pocket, over his heart.

_and my day is done now_

Barbara was calling the mansion again.

"Does that woman ever stop talking?" He murmured to himself.

"Hm? What was that? Do I smell another betrayal coming? Oh Edward, how naughty. Will you start hallucinating her too, do you think?" Oswald said from the couch, grinning a shit-eating smile.

"Shut up."

He picked up the phone.

"Yes?" He growled.

"Oh, Eddy! Hello! Just wondering if you would like to come to the club tonight for a little dinner I'm having?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Maybe you should pick up some wine and find another identical twin to your girlfriend you killed." Oswald said, picking seaweed out from his fingernails.

Ed shot him a glare.

"No thank you, Ms. Kean, I am quite busy at the moment."

"Eddy, you are just no fun!" Barbara said. He could practically hear the absurd pout she pulled when she wanted something from a man.

"Goodbye, Ms. Kean."

"Call of you change you mind, Eddy! And please, call me Barbara." He hung up before she said anything else.

"Poor woman." Oswald sighed. "She thinks you're not a complete closet case."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do, Eddy." He said patronizingly.

He disappeared, leaving Ed alone in the dark mansion.

A complete closet case?

_the dark covers me, and I can't run out_

He sent his riddle off to Jim Gordon. It had been a while since he thought of his friends at the GCPD. He couldn't wait to pay them a visit.

"This whole plan of yours is rather boring. Why not just kill another mayor or something? I think that would be more fun." Oswald yawned.

"It's not my fault all your plans went immediately to killing." Ed told him.

"Oh that's rich, coming from you. I wish you had given me three riddles before you dumped me in the river. Or is it that only the people you don't love get riddles?"

"I. Don't. Love. You." Ed growled.

"Mr. Nygma, I think we've gotten past that, haven't we?"

"I couldn't love a killer like you."

"Careful Eddy boy, you're starting to sound like Ms. Kringle."

Ed looked at Oswald, stunned. He cackled, and faded into the dark behind him. Jim Gordon was gone from his mind as he sat down. Thinking of the two people he had ever loved. Ms. Kringle, and Oswald.

_my blood running cold_

Ed watched the pills sink into the water. His heart ached. He knew it needed to happen so he could truly become the Riddler, but he missed Oswald all the same. He put the bowler hat on top of his head, Oswald's bowler hat, and walked off, leaving his friend at the bottom of the river. Edward Nygma was now truly gone. The twitchy forensics specialist had died with Kristen Kringle, and the sexually confused Chief of Staff died with Oswald Cobblepot. He was now the person he had always strived to be. So why did it feel so wrong?

_i stand before him_

Ed cursed himself for taunting this mysterious group that ruled Gotham behind closed doors and black curtains. It was because of his stupid curiosity that landed him in this idiotic oversized bird cage. How pretentious.

He heard yells and someone struggling in the hallway outside his cell. He watched as the guards threw a small, black haired man into the cell beside him.

His jaw dropped as the figure spoke, grumbling and brushing himself off, looking back at the door the guards had slammed shut behind them. It couldn't be.

"Oswald?"

_it's all I can do to assure him_

The man turned towards him.

He hadn't taken the drugs in days. It had to be out of his system by now. Was he going mad? Was the constant silence and loneliness getting to him.

"Hello Ed." He said.

"I got rid of the drugs, how could you be here? Are you... real?" He breathed out, not even bothered by the fact he had called him Ed. It didn't matter. It was Oswald. He was standing right there, in front of him. Alive.

"What are you talking about? What drugs? Of course I'm real."

"But you were-"

"Dead?" He laughed. "When has that ever stopped me? Especially when I have someone to exact my revenge upon."

Ed slowly took a step forward. Oswald came closer as well, the look in his eyes daring Ed to try and hurt him.

He reached through the bars, and touched Oswald's cheek. He flinched away like Ed had burned him, but it was enough.

"You're alive." He whispered.

_when he comes to me_

"What's wrong with you, Ed? What happened to you?" Oswald asked, the cold in his eyes diminishing.

"Nothing. And don't call me Ed. My name is the Riddler."

_i drip for him tonight_

He watched Oswald hit a guard over the back of his head with a baton they had stolen. Oswald slit the mans throat, blood spraying all over his face. He licked his lips, and smirked at Ed.

He stood dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open. How could Oswald look so attractive in a blood-stained prisoner jumpsuit?

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Oswald said, picking blood out from under his nail with a knife.

Ed walked off in a huff, killing guards along the way. His mind was telling him to slow down so Oswald could keep in pace, but he had to forcefully shove that thought back.

Oswald could walk on his own.

_drowning in the eve, we bathe under blue light_

They burst out into the alleyway, homeless men staring at them. Oswald yelled, and they quickly scattered away.

They turned to face each other.

"We have six hours of truce remaining." Oswald stated.

"I am aware."

Ed stuck out his arm, crowbar in hand. Oswald followed in suit. They dropped their weapons.

After a brief bout of taunting, they turned away, each walking off to amass their army. Getting ready to kill each other.

Ed looked back, and watched Oswald's retreating form. He had so dearly wanted to kiss the blood off of the others face. How was he supposed to stomach killing him?

He whipped his head forward, determined to shake those thoughts from his head. He had to kill him. He needed it. Right?

_this face in my dreams seizes my guts_

Ed watched Fish and Oswald leave the greenhouse, followed by her men bearing guns.

His arm dropped to his side. He should feel robbed, angry, disappointed, something at the very least, not this overwhelming emptiness.

“What the hell was that Nygma? You should have just shot him! Why did you drag it on?” Barbara yelled.

Ed brushed her off, and exited the greenhouse. There was no point in chasing after them. Fish Mooney was a powerful woman.

He breathed in the crisp evening air, calming himself down. He hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. Why couldn’t he? Oswald was vulnerable, pushing himself up against the gun, practically asking to be killed, but he hadn’t been able to do it. When was this going to be over?

_he floods me with dread, soaked in soul_

Ed looked at the white pill between his fingers. He had found more of the drug, unsure of what else to do. He only had a limited amount, which he knew was better.

He needed to talk to Oswald. He needed to sort out the mess of emotions at war inside of him. He needed to understand.

He put the pill on his tongue, and crushed it between his teeth. His pupils dilated, and Oswald appeared before him.

_he swims in my eyes by the bed_

He looked different. He wasn’t soaking, and he wasn’t covered in seaweed and other trash people had thrown in Gotham’s river, his suit sharp and pristine. His hair was done, his makeup clean and precise.

“Hello Edward. So much for not needing me, huh?”

“I need you to help me.”

“When do you not?” Oswald smirked.

“I need to know my feelings towards you.”

“I can’t help you with that, Eddie. I’m a projection of your inner thoughts, not Oswald himself.”

“But you look and act like him.”

“I look and act the way you see him. First, dead. Now? Powerful. Beautiful.”

“Shut up.”

“You shouldn’t have called me back if you weren’t ready to face the truth.”

Oswald disappeared, and Ed sank into a chair, rubbing his temples.

_pour myself over him_

Ed’s fingers danced across the ivory keys, hoping to get the song right. Mr. Penguin was watching him, and he didn’t want to mess up. He sang along, and the man sitting beside him on the piano bench hummed beside him.

“You have such a beautiful voice, Edward.”

“Thank you, Mr. Penguin.”

“Please, call me Oswald.”

Ed shook himself out of his reverie. Barbara was talking to him, but he couldn’t focus. All he could think of was his best friend. Enemy. Lover. The lines had blurred, and he couldn’t tell which one Oswald was.

_moon spilling in_

Ed awoke to the smell of coffee, and to singing. He stumbled his way downstairs, surprised to find Oswald already awake, singing along to the radio. He smiled softly has he crossed the threshold and took a seat at the table.

Oswald noticed him come in, and sang a little louder, eyes shining.

_and i wake up alone_

_and i wake up alone_

_and i wake up alone_

_and i wake up alone_

That was what he thought of during the drive to the docks. A day, long ago, where the man taking him to his death serenaded him in their kitchen. A day, long ago, where the man he loved, sang to him. A day, long ago, where he had been happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Follow me on tumblr: @ambersdyke


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